the still of the morning, the color of the night
by sharoncarters
Summary: Set some time after TASM 2. Peter, MJ, Harry, and Felicia decide to move in together. Hijinks ensue. Mostly from MJ's point of view.


this is the first fic that i've ever posted online (okay, first one since i was, like, 12). be gentle. shoutout to twitter users emmafrosted and fredfredkonfred for encouraging me and giving me ideas and. stuff. okay then. it's happening. i apologize for the format of this and anything else you don't like. i'm hopeless. and new. bye

* * *

Mary Jane Watson has a lot of stuff. Mostly clothes, a lot of makeup accumulated over the years, photo albums she wasn't even aware she had.

She realizes this fact as she's packing up her dorm room, frantically running this way and that, because of course she decided to do this last minute. Idiot.

She's only been in college for two years, but it feels like a lifetime longer. Now that she's reconnected with Peter and Harry (and met Felicia), and after all the things they'd been through together, she feels safe, in a way. Content.

She pushes a stray strand of red hair behind her ear and steps back, hands on her hips, admiring her efficient, if not slightly rushed, handiwork.

"Not bad," comes a sound from the doorway, and she turns to see Peter leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. He smiles at her, which she returns. "You ready to go?"

"I think so, just gotta make sure I didn't forget anything."

Peter makes a sound of agreement and gestures to the stairs behind him.

"Harry and Leesh are in the car," he says, slightly rolling his eyes. MJ lets out a laugh, firstly because it's hilarious when Peter calls Felicia "Leesh".

(The first time he ever did that she'd gotten him in a headlock so fast it gave MJ whiplash. It surprised her, but left her breathless with giggles afterwards, when Felicia had lovingly patted Peter on the head and announced that if he ever called her that again, she'd rip his balls off. That's Felicia, always surprising the lot of them.)

So now he only does it in private. Calls Felicia "Leesh", she means.

Secondly, MJ laughs because Harry had insisted that they use one of his many company limos to help them move into their new apartment. Peter and MJ had been averse to the idea, growing up in the same (not so flashy) neighborhood. They weren't used to money like that, even after all the times they had spent in Harry's mansion when they were younger.

Still, he persisted, and ended up basically annoying them into submission.

"I'll be right down," MJ replies, quickly doing an inventory in her mind of all her most important things. She hears him moving around behind her, and jumps a little when she realizes he's right next to her. It still surprises her how quickly he moves, and how quietly.

"I'll help with the boxes," he says, maneuvering himself around them, and bending down to pick one marked "bathroom" up.

"Thanks," MJ answers with a quick smile, grateful for his help. (Grateful for him. For all of them.)

* * *

Twenty minutes later they're all situated in Harry's limo, boxes of MJ's stuff piled on the seats around them. It's quiet, but not an awkward quiet. It's the kind of quiet a group of people who know each other really well are comfortable with, _because_ they know each other so well.

"I got a job as a karate instructor," Felicia says, breaking the silence.

Harry smiles, Peter congratulates, and MJ leans over the seats to give her a hug.

"I'm so happy for you, Felicia," she says, "you deserve it."

"I'm just glad I can help some people learn self defense. God knows we need it in this city, with everything going on."

The silence this time is laced with grief. MJ loves her friends. She loves them more than anything. But the truth is, they came together after Gwen's death.

And the hole that Gwen's absence has left in their group, and all of their lives, will probably always be there. They'll work through it, of course. That's life. You love, you lose, you move on. But they will never forget.

"Speaking of that," Harry manages, "drinks tonight. On me. To celebrate the new place."

That helps to brighten them all up, despite the ache in MJ's chest.

The apartment is gorgeous, and, most importantly, affordable. MJ had put her foot down when Harry wanted to pay for the entire thing. No matter what anyone said about her, she was responsible, and she wanted to do her part. She'd waitress, she'd work in a library, anything to help pay for rent. All of their names are on the lease, and she's determined to pay anything she can.

The doorman (they have a doorman now, holy shit) helps the four of them bring up MJ's things (because of course everyone else had already done so like, a week ago), and she deposits them in her new room.

A very large room, she should add, one that's bigger than anything she had ever lived in.

"It's nice, isn't it?" Felicia's at her door; MJ will never get used to her friends being quiet like this. She knows they're all superheroes, but still.

She's used to her roommate clomping in at all hours, having loud phone conversations, blasting her music. She's used to her drunken father stomping up and down the stairs, breaking things during his rampages.

She tucks the unruly piece of hair away from her face again, and nods.

"It's beautiful. So much nicer than...a lot of things I'm used to."

"You deserve them, MJ. You deserve to be happy."

MJ feels a rush of warmth then, and that sense of contentment again. She blinks back a few stray tears.

"Thanks, Fel-"

"Hurry up, ladies!" Peter's shout interrupts them. "We don't have all night!"

She hears Harry's voice, quieter, "Actually, we do. It's Friday night," and laughs.

Felicia smiles, then, and gestures to her bedroom. "Come on, I have a great dress you could borrow."

* * *

MJ knows what her friends are like drunk. They've been close for long enough that she's seen them during parties, drank with them at Harry's old place, even had a few ladies nights with Felicia.

She knows that Peter gets quiet and contemplative, Harry gets loud and likes to throw his money around, and Felicia gets handsy.

MJ mostly laughs a lot, because everything is a million times funnier to her when she has beer goggles on.

Take right now, for instance. Felicia is draped over Harry's lap, throwing back tequila shots like they're water, her already short black dress riding up even higher on her thighs.

Peter's laughing softy at something Harry's just said, and MJ can't stop giggling at how silly Harry's hair looks now that Felicia's had her hands all up in it.

"WAITER!" Harry yells, "MORE ALCOHOL! THE MOST EXPENSIVE KIND! I CAN AFFORD IT!

I'M AN OSBORN!"

And here come the giggles again. The bartender looks like he's about to quit his job, so MJ fumbles her phone out of her teeny purse, and calls Harry's driver. He'd made them all program the number into their phones for times like this, but MJ never thought she'd have to use it.

Ten minutes later they've all piled into the huge black car, stumbling and falling all over each other in the process.

Peter's arms find their way around her waist, and Felicia's hands are in her hair.

(She has a hair thing, MJ decides.)

"HOME, HOME ON THE RANGE!" Harry's singing, MJ's laughing, and Leesh looks like she's about to pass out.

They make it back to their new apartment in one piece, even managing to ride the elevator (somewhat) quietly. Harry's stopped singing, at least.

He's more focused on not dropping Felicia, who has somehow fallen asleep. She can sleep anywhere, that one.

Peter opens the door and they all stumble their way to the couch. (It's a big couch, okay?)

MJ kicks her shoes off, and helps Harry with Felicia's, who's still asleep. They collapse, limbs everywhere, and they're snoring in minutes.

Actually, only Harry's snoring. Peter's more, like, whistling in this sleep, and Felicia looks like she's in a coma.

MJ loves them. She hopes they locked the door.

* * *

She wakes up with hair in her mouth; she thinks it's Felicia's, who is still, magically, asleep. MJ disentangles herself from her friends and looks around.

The door is locked, thank God.

She yawns, realizes that Harry's missing, hears something in the kitchen. She gets up and tugs her dress down, hoping she doesn't look too much like a drowned rat, and makes her way to the kitchen.

Harry's cooking. (Which is like, the cutest thing ever. And also she didn't know they even had food in the fridge yet, so.)

"Hey," she says, and wow, her voice is a lot raspier than she'd like it to be.

"Morning," Harry says, not even turning around. Apparently she does not possess the sneaking ability that the rest of her friends do.

She plops down on a bar stool in front of the island and yawns again. "Watcha making?"

"Eggs, sausage, anything we have, really."

"Cool."

They fall into a comfortable silence, Harry occasionally asking her to bring him an ingredient or two.

Peter and Felicia wander in eventually, looking like hell, just like MJ's sure she and Harry look like too.

They eat, making jokes and laughing about the small details they remember from last night (considering they don't remember much).

Felicia perks up suddenly, swallowing her food. "We should set up the TV and play dance dance revolution," she announces.

"Oh my god, yes," cries MJ.

Peter and Harry look at each other.

"It's on," they announce in unison.

* * *

"No! What the fuck! Michelle was the best one! I can't believe this." Living with someone opens you up to a lot more information about that person than you have ever known (or wanted to know, for that matter). For example, the fact that Peter Parker likes watching America's Next Top Model.

"Unacceptable," he mutters under his breath, shoving a handful of popcorn in his face. Felicia is stifling laughs on the other side of the couch, and MJ's just straight out laughing, not even bothering to hide her amusement.

"Yeah, yeah," Peter huffs, eating more popcorn, "I'll see how much you laugh when your favorite gets kicked out."

MJ doesn't have the heart to tell him that she's seen this season already, and knows who the winner is.

Poor boy.

* * *

MJ loves cooking shows. And, okay, maybe it has something to do with the fact that all of the chefs are super hot (hello, Bobby Flay), but she also likes the food.

Even though she can't cook to save her life. But, trivial things like that have never stopped her, so MJ decides to attempt making a lasagna.

The only other person who's home is Peter, so she snatches him away from his computer and decides to make him her sous chef.

Hours later, and many many failed attempts later, Harry and Felicia come home from their respective jobs to find Peter and MJ on the floor, covered in copious amounts of flour.

"Do I even want to know?" Harry asks, brows furrowed.

"I don't," Felicia quips.

"I tried to make lasagna," MJ admits, blushing. "It didn't look that hard."

Leesh gives her a look that says _sweetie no_, but they all end up laughing anyway.

"Maybe I should call Rodrigo," Harry suggests,"I haven't had a good home cooked meal in a while." If what you mean by a home cooked meal is a five course dinner professionally cooked by the Osborns' own private chef, MJ thinks, then no, they haven't.

They'd mostly been living on takeout and Starbucks, which, she has to admit, isn't great.

Felicia looks like she's just had an orgasm. She grabs Harry's arm.

"Please."

"Aw come on, guys, we can do this," Peter says, despite having burned part of his apron off. Felicia just stares at him.

"But, like, forreal. Let us try one more time," MJ adds, helping Peter get up.

"One more time," Harry warns, like he's an irritated father. "But then I'm calling Rodrigo."

The doorbell rings an hour later, and Felicia practically flies off the couch to answer it. She hugs Rodrigo like he's her only tether to the Earth, and MJ laughs so hard she can't breathe.

"Be civilized, Mary Jane," Felicia scolds, like she's the nanny, and it only makes MJ laugh harder.

* * *

It's not always shits and giggles. MJ knows what her friends get up to, why they're so tired 99 percent of the time.

They don't let her suit up alongside them, which she's secretly thankful for, no matter how much she protests.

But she helps Peter patch up his suit when he climbs through the windows at night, and she paints Felicia's nails when she's too tired to walk.

She even gives Harry tips on camouflage; she knows her way around makeup.

Her friends are amazing. They are extraordinary, wonderful, powerful people, and MJ wishes the rest of the city would see that.

Every time she reads another article bashing Spider-man or calling Black Cat a derogatory name she wants to scream.

Sure, they weren't always this way. Felicia tells her about her crime filled past, how she stole and robbed in order to keep herself alive. How she worked her ass off to get the job at Harry's father's company, and was still treated like shit just because she was a woman.

MJ feels closer to her in those moments than ever, those moments when Felicia opens up to her. MJ has been through her share of hardships as well, so she knows what Felicia has felt. _Is _feeling.

She knows that Harry blames himself for Gwen's death, that Peter did for a long time as well. It took them so long to get through it, to forgive each other.

MJ misses Gwen more than anything. Gwen was her best friend, the first person she had ever connected to emotionally. Gwen was her first friend, her first _best _friend. Her first sleepover, her first time going to a school dance with someone. She was Peter's first love. But they had to find a way to keep living, and cherishing the moments of Gwen's life, and not her death.

MJ doesn't say anything, but she still cries. She knows Peter does, too. She hears him in his room sometimes, late at night, and wants to comfort him but doesn't know how. Even years later, Gwen's death is still the hardest thing they have to go through.

Peter ended up giving Harry his blood, unable to watch his best friend disintegrate before his very eyes, even though it was hard for him. MJ helped them pick up the pieces, and slowly, with Felicia's help, they got better.

Peter convinced Harry and Felicia to join his side, and they'd been friends ever since. It's not as simple as it sounds, but it happened.

They'd developed a nice little crime fighting group, Felicia going after mostly rapists, Peter doing what he's always done, and Harry helping with anything else that needs help.

MJ mostly goes to school, then work, and comes home at night to help her friends. It keeps her busy, but she's no longer sad.

She's no longer the lost girl from high school, sleeping around and trying to find her place.

She's found her place. She's found a family.

She shakes herself out of her thoughts, focusing on the frozen steak she now has pressed to the side of Peter's face.

He'd had a bad encounter with someone trying to rob a convenience store earlier that night. It was nothing he couldn't handle, but she feels better now that he's home, now that she can do something.

He heals pretty fast, but it still eases her mind to know that she's doing _something_.

"MJ," he says, voice soft. "Thank you. I know I don't say it enough."

"Nonsense," she mutters, brushing a piece of hair away from his face. "I should be thanking you. You're the one actually doing something to help this city. You're making a difference, all of you."

"But you're the one always here for us. You brought us back together. You're like glue, MJ." He winces, thinking that sounds sort of cheesy, but she hugs him anyway.

Harry and Felicia make a racket as they come through the window, startling MJ.

They're not as stealthy when they're tired.

"Hey, Leesh!"

"Don't test me, Mary Jane."

* * *

"Okay, so, movie night or naw?" Peter asks.

"Please never say that again," Felicia answers.

"Seriously, though."

"Sure," Harry answers, and MJ nods in agreement.

"What do you wanna watch?" MJ asks. It's an uncharacteristically slow night in New York, one that they rarely have. They need to take advantage of it.

"Anything but ANTM," Harry groans, and they all laugh except for Peter, whose face gets really defensive.

"Whatever," he pouts.

"How about that new Pacific Rim movie? I haven't seen it yet," MJ suggests. "It looks good though."

"YES!" Felicia yells, "It's amazing. I'll watch it again, I don't mind."

Peter makes popcorn and they all settle on the couch in their pajamas, adjusting their limbs around one another.

"Wait, I have to go to the bathroom!" Felicia yells before jumping up and running down the hall.

"The girl can take out ten guys on her own and yet she can't control her bladder," Harry says with a laugh and a small shake of his head.

Felicia makes it back and they watch the movie, which actually is, like she had said, amazing.

Their watching of the movie is interrupted by Felicia's occasional tangents about how Mako Mori is a feminist icon and should be cherished by all; Peter's eating; and Harry's complaining about not being able to hear over Peter's eating.

They end up falling asleep on the couch together, which is becoming, like, _a thing_ that they do more often than not. MJ's sure she's going to end up with back problems, but she doesn't really care.

* * *

Peter, 9:04 AM, okay so whose turn is it to do the grocery shopping

Harry, 9:05 AM, if it's mine i'm hiring someone

MJ, 9:05 AM, I think it's mine, actually.

Felicia, 9:07 AM, mj u shop all the time give some1 else a turn

Harry, 9:08 AM, look whos talking miss i love rodrigo so much why don't we call him all the time

Felicia, 9:08 AM, just bc i appreciate a nice professionally cooked meal doesn't mean i don't do my part in this household, potter

Peter, 9:09 AM, ooh shit she's bringing out the hp insults this is gunna be good *insert popcorn emoji*

MJ, 9:09 AM, Lmao Peter I'm crying!

Harry, 9:11 AM, ok leesh you got me its my turn im just lazy

MJ, 9:15 AM, Don't forget the tampons! :)

Peter, 9:16 AM, lmaooo

Felicia, 9:16 AM, youd be wise to pick up some flowers too, maybe even an apology note and a nice slice of cheesecake from rodrigo thnx

Harry, 9:17 AM, ugh fine. women

Felicia, 9:25 AM, OH MY GOD YOU DID NOT

Peter, 9:25 AM, i literally can't breathe


End file.
